


star crawler

by Lire_Casander



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Michael Guerin Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: A series of drabbles following Michael Guerin from his most tender age until the future.





	1. looks like it’s about to rain

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) over at tumblr.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the first time he realizes he can bend reality at his will, he's eight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) **Day 1: Welcome to the Party** over at tumblr. Title taken from the song prompt _Evil_ by Shoves & Rope.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

The first time he realizes he can bend reality at his will, he’s eight, alone and scared in a corner of a trailer, surrounded by smoke and yells as he hides underneath a counter that acts as shield. Michael covers his ears with his hands, hard enough to leave bruises, and opens his mouth in an agonic, soundless scream.

The kettle on the stove explodes, its contents pouring over everything inside the cramped space. The screaming match stops, but the couple’s attention zeroes in on him.

The first time he loses control, he learns he just bleeds all the same.


	2. you know it’s ancient history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _they’ve had this argument countless times_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) **Day 2: Distance** over at tumblr. Title taken from the song prompt _Used To Be_ by Matt Nathanson.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

They’ve had this argument countless times, although he’s not sure it could be considered as such – there’s no quarrel, just silence broken by hands grabbing clothes.

Four years, three months, two weeks and an odd number of days, he should’ve grown used to the misplaced feeling of abandonment. Yet, whenever he hears footsteps walking away, whenever a tear threatens to break through his collected appearance, Michael feels his soul being ripped to shreds as he attempts to cover his breakdown with the coldness that’s only granted by the distance.

“Someday,” he mutters. In another life. Just not in this one.


	3. already halfway gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _she's a breath of fresh air_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) **Day 3: Dates just limit your options** over at tumblr. Title taken from the song prompt _Fistfight_ by Ballroom Thieves.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

She’s a breath of fresh air. That’s all Michael feels when she looks at him while cleaning the bar with a rag that’s seen better days. He can’t remember the last time someone’s stared at him like he’s being _seen_.

He’s tired of being invisible - his heart leaps at someone acknowledging that he exists beyond the lies he’s told everyone.

He loves making her turn to liquid under his hands, just because he can. Just because she’s _here_.

But she can’t be _him_.

He winks at her, hoping to _feel_ instead of just getting used to having her around.


	4. just hand me a light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sometimes, when he goes to sleep, he dreams_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) **Day 4: The Tropier the Better (fanfic trope of your choice)** over at tumblr. I chose _**confessing their feelings when facing death**_. Title taken from the song prompt _Burning Man_ by Dierks Bentley.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

Sometimes, when he goes to sleep, he dreams. Fire and crumbling walls, the lick of fire against his skin, suffocating them as they hang onto each other, as they confess feelings buried in the deep abyss of memories laced to hammers and deployments.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, he still tastes the sour lies, the bile rising in his throat as he realizes he never spoke those words while they were facing off their death.

Sometimes, the dream lingers long enough for him to hold onto it until reality sinks in and he realizes the heat besides him isn’t Alex’s.


	5. this town, ain't never gonna be the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _he won't find answers in the bottom of this bottle_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) **Day 5: Always Support the Bottom** over at tumblr. Title taken from the song prompt _Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy_ by Big and Rich.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

He won’t find answers in the bottom of this bottle, just like he wasn’t going to find them in the ten beers he’s already chugged. But he sure as hell is going to try and _forget_ he’s even looking for reasons to stay sober.

He’s on a bender at Saturn’s Rings, back from a blowjob by a blonde, reeling from a quickie with a redhead, already hitting on a brunette when a hand lands on his shoulder, fingers searing a brand through his worn-off shirt, touch so familiar he can’t help leaning into it with ease.

“Let’s go home, Michael.”


	6. like a piece of driftwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _his brain feels like swimming against a current that’s drowning him with guilt and sickness_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) **Day 6: Pre-canon and/or “the lost decade”** over at tumblr. Title taken from the song prompt _Cover Me Up_ by Zak Brown Band. 
> 
> I feel like I've stretched it a bit with this prompt but if you squint you might be able to see it.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

His brain feels like swimming against a current that’s drowning him with guilt and sickness. His fingers wrinkle the sheets underneath him, grip desperate, wobbling. If he could, he’d get out of the bed and run for his life.

He can’t.

His mind supplies images from his youth – Isobel’s floaty dress at her wedding, Max’s sadness at Liz’s departure, his own tears in the loneliness of a trailer. A crash landing. And Alex, Alex, Alex – his bright smile after their first kiss, the pain in his eyes before the last deployment.

He’s trapped in a smog he can’t wade through.


	7. there ain’t no reason to flee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _clad in all black, michael exits the wild pony_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the [Michael Guerin Week](https://michaelguerinweek.tumblr.com/post/186623043888/welcome-to-michael-guerin-week-2019-each-day-will) **Day 7: Drunk and Disorderly** over at tumblr. Title taken from the song prompt _Stick Around_ by David Ramirez.
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Unbeta'ed.

Clad in all black, Michael exits the Wild Pony. Isobel’s laughter at Maria’s words disappear when the door bounces closed, and he is only surrounded by the stars, blinking down at him from a sky dark and comforting like a fluffy duvet.

“I’m home now!” he yells. He wriggles his fist in front of his face.

“Already drunk and making a scene?” Alex asks, brushing his hand against _his_.

He hasn’t chugged a single drop of alcohol in seven months, but he just wants to make his point clear.

“I’m home now,” he whispers, fingers lacing and hearts beating in time.


End file.
